


Snow Boys v.1

by hhoneycas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Not Beta Read, Ski Patrol Sam Winchester, Skiing, Snowboarding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 06:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhoneycas/pseuds/hhoneycas
Summary: If there was one thing Castiel despised, it was snowboarders. The thing about snowboarders was that they thought they were all that. Tonight though, they’d been the worst he’d ever seen.





	Snow Boys v.1

If there was one thing Castiel despised, it was snowboarders. The thing about snowboarders was that they thought they were all that. Snowboarders thought that they could just drop on their asses in the middle of the slope, right under the crest of the hill, tripping anyone who got too close. Snowboarders crowded at the top of the hill, barely feet away from the lift. Snowboarders were almost always frat boys with egos and a need to impress the girls they were with. Tonight though, they’d been the worst he’d ever seen. 

Cas had been on skis since he’d been a child, he knew how to stop quickly and evade dumbasses, but for some reason, on this night of nights, he’d crashed into three. Or the same one three times, they’d all been in black and he didn’t care. But three! Cas never fell, too practiced with a dash of careful, but tonight he’d eaten shit far too many times to leave his ego unscathed. He was bitter. Not only was he bitter, but he was trapped on a lift with a snowboarder who he was pretty sure had gotten a pole to the nose about four runs previous.

“Are you going down Drift Woods?” It was the straight run on the west face of the mountain, blue but full of speed demons and hot doggers, and Cas wasn’t sure if he wanted to try that out tonight. 

“Yes but I’m cutting across to Pine Needler halfway down.” The double black he’d been meaning to make it over to by the end of the night. Efficiency  _ and  _ he could see the guy’s reaction.

He heard the guy mutter a soft, “Fuck,” before he regained his “snowboarder arrogance”. He kicked at one of Cas’ skis with his free foot and then said, “Well, guess it’s only half a mountain I have to look over my shoulder for the dumbass who doesn’t know how to ski.”

Cas gaped behind the fleece around his neck and face before properly turning to the man next to him. “I can ski very well, thank you. You’re the one with the problem,” he said with an overdramatic huff. 

“What fucking problem do I have?”

“You think you own the hill!” Cas turned so sharply he could feel his hip collide with the safety bar. 

The guy pulled his goggles off his face, revealing green eyes that were fiery with anger. Cas would have been taken aback if he wasn’t so pissed. “You think you own the fucking mountain! Skiers feel like they have some divine ass right to just rooster tail ten pounds of snow down my collar and why? Cause you can stop without falling? That’s a weird brag, man. Weird brag.”

Cas opted to turn back to the lift and ignore the fairly accurate jab he’d thrown. They passed a small sign that signaled the moment to put the bar up and get ready to “hit the hill” as he’d heard a group of teenage snowboarders say it.

Tips of his skis up and poles in their respective hands, Cas slipped off the lift. Almost in slow motion, he watched the green eyed snowboarder get off at the same time and proceed to land on his skis. For the fourth time that night they both went down, Cas trapped under the snowboard. He heard the groan of the lift stopping behind them.

“Are you fucking kidding?” the other man said with a laugh. Repetition eventually made things funny. He turned to Cas with a half-dissipated anger. “Well, now that you’ve bruised me mentally and emotionally for the fourth time tonight, could you please get up?” When Cas didn’t move and only continued to glare, he said, “Oh, I’m sorry,” he put his gloved hands across his chest, “is your entitlement too heavy a load for you to bear?”

Cas was unimpressed by the melodrama and returned the favor. “I would get up, but it seems I’m trapped under the weight of your enormous ego.”

“You’re the one that got us into this mess!” The snowboarder gestured uselessly with his arms before collapsing into the powder he’d probably been aiming for.

Cas made the childish choice to slap at the snowboard trapping his skis to their place the snow. “You decided to stop half a second after we got off the lift! This is on you!” 

From somewhere in the snow he heard a heavy sigh. A black glove rose from the depths of it to flip him off. 

“You’re a dick, snowboarder,” Cas said, smile hidden behind the high collar of his coat. He realized he didn’t know the other guy’s name so the insult didn’t land as hard. He realized it may have hit hard enough when the guy’s green and white jacket pulled itself from the snow.

“ _ You’re _ a dick, skier!” A hint of a laugh followed his words and Cas felt his mood brighten.

From somewhere on the stopped lift behind them he heard a girl yell, “You’re both assholes, now get out of the way!”

Cas turned his skis parallel as the snowboarder hopped away. Once they were both situated and the green eyes were hidden by goggles once again, Cas turned to him. “Still going to Drift Woods?”

His shrug was buried under layers of jackets but his tone came through when he said, “I’ve got health insurance, lead the way.” Cas pushed himself over the crest of the hill and shot down across the groomed snow towards the hills and jumps that littered the double black run. 

The first jump Cas took with practiced skill, bending and relaxing his knees and landing gracefully. Of course, he didn’t impress his new companion.

“You guys don’t jump pretty. You look like a fucking turtle.”

“You landed on your ass the second you hit the ground. It’s no more impressive,” Cas retorted as he stopped beneath him.

“At least I’m not gonna break an ankle.” And even though Cas couldn’t see it, he could feel him smirking.

Each of them tried to one up the other as they made their way down the hill. One of the snowboarder’s jumps was arguably perfect and photo-worthy and Cas left him open-mouthed when he took one backwards. It was the sixth one, the one where neither of them tried anything, that Cas fell. One ski trapped under an ice patch and the other still going, plus the trauma of a poorly executed landing didn’t mean good things.

“Oh shit!” Cas heard the board land softly on the snow next to him, but his brain couldn’t bring him to focus on anything other than the searing pain in his knee. “Now I see why you guys don’t fall, you fall ugly. That’s a bruise to the ego that’s for sure.” He went silent when Cas didn’t move. “Hey, man, you okay?” Finally, Cas pried himself out of the torso-shaped hole in the snow with a shake of his head. 

“I am not okay.” 

“What’d you do?”

“There’s a high possibility,” he paused, his voice whining with pain, “that I’ve destroyed my knee.”

“Can you try and get up?” There were hands on his shoulders, guiding him to sitting.

With a feeble nod, Cas pushed up on his hands. Then he put pressure on his knee and could feel himself collapsing into the arms of this stranger with a snowboard.

 

One minute Dean was helping the guy up and the next he had an inert body in his arms. It crossed his mind that he’d probably blacked out from pain but when it came to do something about it, he had no idea what his next step was. 

“Buddy?” He moved the arm that held up the skier’s shoulders to no avail. “Shit.” Gently, he let him back down into the snow and pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Dean? Why are you calling me? I’m working.”

“I forgot the patrol number.”

He could hear his brother pause. “Do you need ski patrol?”

“Yes.” 

It was like his brother shifted into a different person. “Are you injured?”

“No, the guy I’m with.”

Suddenly, back into brother mode. “You’re with a guy? I saw you two hours ago, Dean!”

“Not the point, Sam.” With his free hand he unbuckled from his board and stood it in the snow. He started pacing around the unconscious man next to him.

“Right, sorry. What’s his injury?”

“Something with his knee,” Dean turned to look at him, “and he fainted.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end. “Lead with that. Is he breathing? Does he have a pulse?”

Dean knelt down and slipped his glove off to check. “Yes to both.” He didn’t move his hand from the pulse point.

“If he doesn’t wake up soon, call me again. Which slope are you on?”

“Halfway down Needler.”   
“Okay, I’ll send someone up. In the meantime, maybe take off his snowboard and just stay with him, okay?”

Dean assured his brother that they’d both be fine and put his phone away. He moved down the slope a few feet to the guy’s legs. How in hell was he supposed to get these skis off? He started gently pulling and when that didn’t work he moved to feeling around for a latch or a clip or even a button to just release it. After fifteen seconds of trying there was a sharp and  _ pained  _ intake of breath from above him.

“Fuck. Please stop.” The previously benumbed man tried to reach towards Dean only to collapse again in what look like immeasurable pain. “Are you trying to take my skis off?” he asked through forcefully gritted teeth.

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know how to.”

With one of his arms the guy gestured to his legs. “By my heels there’s a lever looking thing. Push down on it.” Dean found what he was talking about and released his first boot. He released the second one to a restrained scream coming from the skier as his foot was forced towards his knee. 

“Sorry.”

There was a feeble wave of his hand. “Don’t worry. Just hurts.”

“I can imagine.”

A breathy laugh came from somewhere above him. “No you can’t.”

“I’m going to move them now.” The guy sat up violently and Dean cringed as his face wrenched in pain. “Not your feet, the skis.” He nodded, ever so slowly, before settling his weight on his hands. Dean slid the skis out from where they’d been trapped under his legs and felt his heart clench every time the guy let out pitiful whimpers. He set the skis aside and sat down next to him, ditching his helmet and goggles. 

An awkward silence swept over the two of them, Dean packing a little snowman together and the skier drumming his fingers over his chest. “You know how they say go out with a bang?”

Dean looked over to the other guy as he pulled his goggles off and removed his own helmet. He had dark hair and blue eyes that were glittering with tears. Dean would have called him pretty if the situation were different. “Yeah?”

“I think my ski season went out with something more like a crack.” Dean couldn’t help but snort out a laugh and the guy cracked the brightest smile for someone in his state. A sigh from each of them sobered the moment. “Thank you for staying.”

“Of course,” Dean said, trailing off. He didn’t know the guy’s name. “Hey-”

His question was interrupted by a flashlight sweeping over them. Dean and the other guy both looked up to see the red jackets of the ski patrol. 

“Are you our injured party?”

There was a raised hand and a small call of, “That’d be me!”

Out of the muttering between the four of them, Dean made out, “Glad he’s conscious.” and he felt a little bit of something similar go through his veins. 

“Can you grab his skis and poles?” one of the officers asked. Dean nodded and looked around, the skis where he’d put them but the poles out of sight. 

“Over here,” the vaguely familiar voice said. Dean looked to him and the pole he held up for Dean. “The other one’s downhill a bit. Where my skis were.”

He uncovered the pole from a sizeable amount of powder and realized it was bent nearly ninety degrees.

“Ooh, that’s bent out of shape.”   
“So are you buddy,” Dean said, pointing at the knee ski patrol was currently strapping to the toboggan. 

“You’re pretty too, snowboarder.” Despite laying in the snow for the past half hour, Dean felt warmth engulf his body and a small smile creep across his face. Looking down at his boots, he moved the poles over to the skis and his own snowboard. After a few tries, he managed to stand with the skis in his arms and the fourth patroller took the poles. The other three manned the toboggan and they set off down the hill. 

Dean kept a way pace with the skier, making sure he never let him out of his sight. This let the guy make clever quips as they made their way to the lodge.

“Don’t fall on your ass, snowboarder, those are expensive.”

Dean laughed but at that moment, his grip on the bindings in his hands faltered. He recovered enough to say, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t.” He didn’t know where the pet name came from, but he stuck with it.

At the ski patrol lodge they all ditched their skis and Dean his board and the patrollers carried his skier into the little building.

“Hey! Is this the guy my brother injured?”

Dean couldn’t help but groan from the little foyer. “Shut up, Sam.”

The skier spoke as they transferred him to the table. “I am.” 

“What’s your name?”

“Castiel.” Dean poked his head around the corner at the name, finally matching it to the face. It fit him perfectly and he could feel his heart flip flop a little. 

“Well, Castiel, I’m going to have you ditch the snow gear.” Dean blushed and suddenly found the pockets of his jacket fascinating. 

About two minutes of a lot of painful noises from Castiel and the clicking of ski boots later, Sam poked his head around the corner. “Come in here, I need your help.” Warily, Dean followed him into the room. Castiel laid on the table in just his long-sleeved thermal and boxer briefs and Dean was about to lose it.

“What do you need my help with, exactly?”

Sam laughed at his brother’s obvious struggle. “You need to hold his hand. He’s going to punch me when I reset his knee if you don’t.”

Dean walked over to the table and held his hand out over Castiel’s chest. He just looked up at Dean, stunned for some reason. A reason that became apparent when he said, “You’re pretty without all those layers.” Dean’s face flushed instantly. 

“Is he on painkillers?”

“Not yet,” Sam said, barely containing laughter. Castiel grabbed his hand when Sam put his on either side of his knee. “Sorry about this.” There was a sound somewhere between a crack and a pop that shook Dean to his core.    
A scream that was nothing short of wrecked echoed through the room and Dean could feel Castiel crushing his hand in his own as small tears rolled down the side of his face. “Fuck. You.”

If a grimace could be sheepish, Sam had perfected it. “Probably didn’t help your torn ACL. Sorry.”

Castiel just groaned and didn’t let go of Dean’s hand. “What’s next?”

Sam cleared his throat and pulled a plastic box from one of the cupboards. He walked back with a roll of elastic bandages. “I wrap this, put a brace on it, give you a lot of ibuprofen, and you don’t drive home tonight. Book a room until you can get a ride.”

Before he could think about the consequences of his words, Dean said, “Stay with me.”

Castiel, who still hadn't let go of his hand, turned to face him. “I wouldn't want to impose.”

“It’s free cause I’m an instructor. There’s no imposition.” Dean smiled down at him and Castiel smiled back up. After a long moment of staring, Sam cleared his throat and pulled his brother aside. Dean let go of Castiel’s hand, where they’d threaded their fingers together and followed his brother to the small foyer. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Dean shrugged lamely. “I’m being kind.”

“You’re being horny.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. “He’s got a fucked up knee, dude. I can’t have sex with him. Plus, I barely know him.” Sam’s disbelieving look forced him to repeat himself. “I’m just being nice.”

“Fine,” Sam sighed, returning to the table where Castiel was laying. “You’ll stay with Dean and if you ever want to ski again, you’ll schedule a doctor’s appointment and then some surgery.” Then he left them alone to go find a pair of crutches. 

“So, Dean, huh?”

“Huh?”

“Your name. It’s Dean,” Castiel said, sitting up with a little leverage from Dean’s hand that had somehow found his again.

Dean nodded slowly before looking at Castiel again. There was a long moment where they just seemed to take each other in before Sam interrupted them. He was carrying a pair of crutches and some snow boots. Sam and Dean both helped Castiel back into his pants and the boots before Sam handed him the crutches. “Rest, ice, compression, elevation. I’ll keep your skis here, Dean can get them tomorrow.” He opened the door for them with a smile and they began the walk to the lodge.

Dean kept checking to make sure Castiel wasn’t slipping, keeping a hand on his back and his eyes always on him. Finally, they made it to Dean’s room. Castiel would have collapsed on the bed if Dean hadn’t been there to gently guide him down. 

“It’s warm in this room,” Castiel observed as Dean took off the last of his outer layers.

Dean looked up from what he was doing. “I can turn it down if you want.”

“No, no, I just need out of these layers.”

Dean almost froze as Castiel finished unzipping his thick jacket and began to struggle with his pants. “Do you,” he paused to compose himself, “do you need help?”

Castiel conceded with a heavy sigh. “Yes, I believe I do.”

Dean walked over and helped him hop out of his snow pants and turned to grab one of the extra pairs of sweats he had. “Do you-oh, my god.” Castiel had divested himself of the sweaty thermal, leaving a non-functioning Dean to stare at his chest.

“Are those for me?” He asked when he saw the sweatpants Dean held. Still mute, he nodded and held them out to him. Castiel didn’t take them and instead looked from Dean to the sweats to his knee and back again. “Could you help me?”

Dean walked over and Castiel grabbed his shoulders, balancing shaky on his one leg, stepping into one leg of the pants and letting Dean pull the other over his other leg. He moved his hands from Dean’s shoulders and in a split-second move to make sure he didn’t fall, Dean grabbed him by the waist. Slowly, Castiel sank back onto the bed and Dean didn’t remove his hands. He just looked into his eyes and held him.

“Can I please kiss you?” he asked, eyes pleading and hope dripping from his tone.

“Yes.” With the minimal movement his injury allowed, Castiel leaned up and brought their lips together. Ever careful of his knee, Dean slowly pushed him back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss. 

When they moved apart to catch their breath, Castiel whispered, “And to think, I started tonight hating you. Now look where we are.”

Dean simply smiled and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> hey this probably either goes too fast or makes no sense and im sorry lmao
> 
> but hey! if you liked it, im super glad and would love some feedback! <3


End file.
